


Mr. and Mr. Smythe

by Nevcolleil



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mr. & Mrs. Smith Fusion, Assasins, M/M, Seblaine Week 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-12 00:57:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11726190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nevcolleil/pseuds/Nevcolleil
Summary: Some secrets are deadlier to keep than to share. Necessary as keeping those secrets seems to be when you're an assassin and your spouse is not. (Not that youknowof, anyway.)





	Mr. and Mr. Smythe

**Author's Note:**

> This is my paltry offering to this week's celebration. Somewhat hastily finished. I hope it's at least worth a read and a grin, regardless :p

The front door they'd imported from India hangs off of one hinge when he returns. 

" _Bas, it looks just like the one in Jaipur_ ," he remembers Blaine saying as he pointed it out on his screen. They were lying in a hammock somewhere - Bali, he thinks. Their honeymoon. (The stockbroker with the gambling problem and the weak heart.)

Blaine's lovely hand had stuck out of the sweaty tangle of their naked bodies, his cellphone probably already packed with bookmarks acting as a kind of shopping list for their new home.

They'd celebrated their elopement on the beach in the twilight, there on the private stretch of sand and surf they'd reserved for the occasion, then they'd retreated to the trees. Then Blaine had begun to make their dreams of a home together back in the states a reality, one 'Buy It Now' click at a time.

"You mean the one we missed the Hawa Mahal for, so I could ravish you against it?" he'd teased, just to feel Blaine's skin flush, to hear that shy- Sebastian still doesn't know what to call the sound Blaine makes when he's both nervous and turned on, wanting something but _just_ on this side of deciding to be brave and _take_ what he wants. It's too manly to be a giggle... softer than any laughter Bas has ever heard before or since; lighter, somehow, too.

Or maybe that's just Sebastian's stupid, sentimental heart projecting shit. Even then.

They'd visited India on the one year anniversary of the day they'd met. (The Lebanese arms dealer who'd, naively, hidden in Dharamsala for safety.) They'd pre-paid for guided tours to many of the country's top tourist attractions, although Sebastian hadn't been able to join Blaine for several of them. " _Must be something I ate_ ," he'd lied, while Blaine had affectionately rolled his eyes and wiped Bas's face with a cool rag, and said what did he expect, ordering things he couldn't even pronounce at their first meal of the vacation.

(Mahmouf had gone down hard, nevermind his evasives being for shit.)

Blaine had bought the door, the tapestries in the guestroom and the heavy, hand-woven baskets he'd filled with plants and stuck in their living room with that trip in mind.

Now Bas steps past the splintered door without looking twice at it. The last time he'd seen them, Blaine's plants had been on fire, the baskets burning with them. 

"Honey... you home?" he calls out, in some twisted play on his usual, half-joking greeting. Even when he'd been, somehow, convinced that it would all work out, Sebastian had found it _hilarious_ that he - _he_ \- was doing the whole domestic thing. And loving it.

"You in there, Ki-" The pet name sticks in his throat, though - and stubbornly, _horrifyingly_ , won't budge.

" _Fuck_..." he allows himself, if only as a whisper, shaking his head, sharp as slapping his own face, to stop the rest of himself from shaking.

Like _that's_ gonna do it. If finding out that the last five years of his life had revolved around a lie... If facing the love of his life across the dinner table and a Glock 20 hadn't been enough to knock some sense into him...

"You there, baby?" Sebastian tries again, letting a little well-earned rage seep into the rough spots in his voice to hopefully mask some of the pain. Blaine hates- Blaine hated for Bas to call him "baby" - especially in the last year or so. When his pointed questions about what (who) Bas was doing whenever he was "sealing the deal", late at the office or out of town, started getting a lot less vague and a lot more pointed.

Sebastian lets the rage carry him as he sweeps the remains of their living room - the equally charred ruins of their dining room and the battlefield that had been a kitchen.

The funny thing is - not that Sebastian finds it funny... Bas hasn't touched another man since things got serious with Blaine. Not even when it would have made a job a lot easier. Sebastian, the ultimate playboy - once proud to boast about how many guys he could have gagging for him in one night - had been _happy_ to say, honestly, that he's never cheated on his husband. Never wanted to. It had made him feel a bit more like he and Blaine could somehow be equal, somehow, someday. Like if he laid off on fucking anyone but his husband, doted on him like the Disney prince Bas had thought Blaine was, it could somehow wipe Bas's slate clean. All the dirty, violent blood-letting on it clean.

Blaine had been a virgin when they met, he'd said. Their first time together, Bas had felt stupidly off-put knowing it. Like it meant any fucking thing at all, his stomach had swooped every time Blaine made a sound; he'd shook as he slipped inside. He'd felt like he was pissing in a church, just touching Blaine.

For all Sebastian knows, that had been a lie too - just part of his game.

Gunfire erupts from the darkness of the hallway, and Sebastian smoothly arches and twists, dives behind the more or less surviving hunk of their decimated kitchen island.

"You know I _hate_ it when you call me that!" Blaine shouts, in such a perfect imitation of hurt and suspicion that Bas feels guilt, the urge to say something - anything - to make Blaine feel better, wash over him instinctually.

His rage spikes so fast, the stinging in his eyes takes on a different source as he, frankly, makes a reckless dash back over the island, letting his own bullets fly in Blaine's supposed location.

He's _mocking_ Sebastian. That little fucking-

His voice is finally cool, calm, as he banters back at Blaine from behind his new cover - their overturned couch, where it had landed last night, between the kitchen and the pantry. 

"Come on, handsome," Bas says, in his slickest (least sincere) tone. He'd tried so hard, for going on six years, to hide this part of himself from Blaine. The part that can just... _switch_ to this. Smooth. Cold. (Empty.) Absolutely separate from whatever fucked up emotions are churning inside of Sebastian, deep down where he's stuffed them. It's a trick that had served him well after his parents divorce - when his bastard father fought for custody of him just to spite his poor mother, and his smirking stepmother (all of them eventually merged in Bas's mind, into one faceless, shameless entity) received her life's purpose (to make Bas's childhood miserable.) It's served Sebastian well in his profession. It can serve him here.

"We've been together for what? Three... Four? Almost five-"

" _Five_ years, Sebastian!"

"Right, right... Wow. Five years," Sebastian whistles and stirs up his most convincing laugh. "Jesus. Five years of easy lays. I gotta tell you, Blaine, you're lucky I didn't get tired of fucking you on the side _years_ ago... What, I was supposed to remember which name, out of literally _hundreds_ , to say while doing it? Tall order, sweetheart."

Blaine curses, colorfully, and moves - but Bas can't tell where. He can't even bask in the bitter (desperate) pleasure of getting a couple of figurative shots in, either, because Blaine yells back almost immediately.

"Oh, you think so? Well, I've never called you _Sam_ while I was in bed with you, have I?"

"You fucking-" Sebastian can't even think about the stupidity of his next move. He charges around the couch and into the darkness of the hallway, trying to get a bead on his darling husband, before it even occurs to him that doing so is gonna give his soon to be _ex_ husband the perfect line of sight.

For all of Blaine's accusations over the years, his quiet moods and pleading eyes, Sebastian's only ever had one complaint where Blaine is concerned (other than the fear that he's lost the skill to make Blaine happy, with all of the secrets he's built between them). It's that wherever Sebastian isn't with Blaine, Sam is. Sometimes even when Bas is there - Blaine and Sam are attached at the hip. Their friends have a fucking _name_ for it, even: Blam, of all the childish, idiotic-

Sebastian's complained that he and Blaine see each other too little already. (" _And that's not just my fault_ ," Blaine's said. " _We both work crazy hours,  
Bas _.") Why should he have to share his husband's time with his husband's best friend? They work together, for fuck's sake! Doing the most boring job Sebastian can imagine. Surely they get plenty of time at the office to talk football and superheroes and _musicals_ (okay - granted, he joins in those talks too; of the latter, at least. He's more of a rugby fan and a poetry geek himself).

Sebastian's never complained that he thinks Blaine has been having sex with Sam for at least a year now.

It would have hurt too badly if Blaine countered his suspicions with an unfortunate truth. And Sebastian hadn't wanted to risk Sam's life on what that hurt might have made him do. He's Blaine's best friend, after all. And Sebastian would probably even have liked him if he wasn't both ridiculously civilian and possibly screwing Bas's husband. Pipebombing his car wouldn't have been worth Blaine forever hating Bas out loud and living away from him, instead of living with Sebastian and maybe hating him in secret at least a little bit.

Bas reaches the mouth of the hallway just as he hears the telltale thud, clank, and hiss of the small, jerry-rigged explosive Blaine's just thrown at him.

He barely has time to turn, pull open the heavy hall closet door to shield at least part of him, and then he's laying on his back - at the _other_ end of the hall, with his ears ringing and the ceiling swirling around in his vision like waves from behind mirrored glass.

A lot of things flash through his head as he lies there, regaining his breath. Wes is gonna kill his dead ass a second time when he finds out he got himself taken down by a homemade _concussion_ grenade and a pair of pretty... everything. He and David are also gonna try and kill Blaine, and Bas isn't sure who will win. They had loved Blaine too. Or at least _really_ liked him (which is a lot, for Wes, when it comes to anyone not also employed by Dalton Defense Industries) and they loved thinking that Blaine loved Bas.

Sebastian hopes Trent doesn't take his death too hard. That Nick and Jeff get their shit together sometime soon, so they can help each other through this. It always hurts when the team loses a guy. Bas should have stepped up his matchmaking game a long time ago. He'd have liked to have gotten to gloat over being right about those two when they finally hook up.

Bas hopes Hunter takes care of his car.

He wishes he'd confronted Sam after all - maybe not with a pipe bomb. But with a smirk that said so what if he was getting Blaine off now - Sebastian had (presumably) gotten to Blaine first. And Blaine might have faked a lot of things, but you can't fake the way Blaine had just melted for him, every time they were together, right up til the end, when those times came fewer and farther between. Whatever Blaine _hadn't_ really felt for Bas, he had felt something, damn it. Sebastian thinks about this and not that if Blaine is in the field, then Sam probably is too. That Sam's maybe known Blaine for even longer than Sebastian thought. (Has been _knowing_ him for longer-)

Sebastian's sure he's about to take a headshot at any second. He can censure his own fucking thoughts all he wants.

Except the headshot doesn't come while Bas is thinking of any of this, or blinking the haze out of his eyes and trying to remember happier thoughts to take with him to that last second.

Blaine's bashful smile in the moonlight in Bali - his perfect skin surrounded by black water and Bas's arms during a midnight swim.... Blaine in Jaipur, clutching the frame of an intricately carved door to a (hopefully) empty flat, located far back along a quiet alley - his soft gasps and bitten off moans testifying to every move Bas made as he moved against and inside of his soon to be fiance.

Blaine at home, sleepy and warm in their bed - playful and funloving, laughing or dancing or fighting Bas over tiny, trivial things...

The sound of Blaine's voice as he sang... Sebastian thinks maybe he fell in love with it before he saw Blaine and fell in love at first sight too- a double misstep for an assasin like Bas, who should have known doubly better.

He'd been fleeing a job gone every kind of wrong (a politician in Madrid, who inaccurate sources had claimed would be travelling _alone_ that afternoon). He'd ducked into the only hotel in Madrid where a _second_ murder was being investigated that day - just his fucking luck, and the superstitious reason he rarely takes jobs in Spain these days.

And there was Blaine. Performing at the bar. He didn't miss a beat when Bas sidled up to him and took his mic, mixing their voices together, appearing to the passing policia as though they'd been singing duets together all day, what with the way Blaine had only leaned in further when Bas pressed too intimately against him... The way Blaine had smiled up at him and laughed that indescribable laugh as Bas had hammed it up and turned song lyrics into pick up lines.

Sebastian can hear Blaine's voice as the ringing fades, for a split second convinced he's hearing the singing in his memories. He and Blaine have sung together countless times since then. In the shower, in the car. In bars and coffee shops and, a time or two, while sexing each other up, a tune butchered or broken by groans and giggles and 'oh god, Bas, please...please' and 'yeah... yeah, Blaine, fuck...'

Sebastian comes back to himself; it's been maybe a matter of minutes, although it feels like he's been lying here, waiting, for a lifetime.

That _is_ Blaine's voice, but Blaine isn't singing.

"-behind the goddamned couch! I thought you were- god. I _can't_. Sebastian, I can't! Are you even fucking hearing me?"

Sebastian can't make sense of the words - or the way Blaine says them.

With fear in his voice. Real fear. Tears. Sebastian's still too out of it to think they might be a trick. More mockery meant to rub salt in his wounds. To kick his pride while he's already down and almost out.

Instinctually, when he hears the clatter of a handgun being tossed away, he relaxes a fraction. When he feels the heat of Blaine's body as Blaine leans over him, his hands cupping Bas's face, he turns into the contact.

"Shhh, Blainey, It's okay," he comforts on autopilot.

"Bas? Oh god, Bas, thank God," Blaine babbles as Sebastian trains his eyes to focus on his husband, still shushing and slurring words of reassurance. "I'm fine... I'm fine, Blaine."

Blaine's hands on Bas's body, as he searches for injuries, are sure and experienced and - dazed or not - Sebastian is no doubt one incredibly sick bastard for finding Blaine's touch, knowing now how destructive those hands can be and have been, _really_ fucking hot.

It's harder than it should be getting his hands to move and slowly position the backup piece that had stayed with him even when the gun that had been in his hands went flying with the blast. But he does. He muggily perceives the fact that Blaine has just pressed a hard kiss to his temple, but he hasn't processed it when the click of the safety going off on his gun causes Blaine to go still. 

Blaine slowly pulls back and Sebastian uses the brief moment Blaine isn't looking at his face to channel all of his remaining energy into the glock he pushes into Blaine's vulnerable side and the icy mask of his facial expression.

If Blaine's through playing now that the tables seem to be turned, if the next look he gives Sebastian is one of contempt... If his next words are the scathing ones he heard in his dreams last night, while he slept off the evening's knock-down shoot out (' _Did you really think that someone like me - someone as GOOD as me,  
would really want a rich boy turned thug manwhore like you as anything more than a long con?_ ' dream-Blaine had chastised him as Bas cowered. ' _After all the men you've fucked, all the men who haven't given a shit about you... Did you really think I was actually going to be different?_.')

Sebastian has to steel himself to take it. He won't cower in front of the man he's slept beside for more than half a decade. 

Especially not if he's only pretending to be as vulnerable as he seems. Bas spent only one hour last night sleeping; the rest of the time he was reading up on the side of his husband who had potentially known all of Sebastian's secrets this whole time. Blaine is very, very good at pretending, his record says. But even better at killing. Better than Sebastian, maybe. (Not that Bas is going to admit it.)

Not that he'll need to if Blaine-

But Blaine's face isn't contemptuous when he finally meets Sebastian's eyes. Blaine looks a little like he had last night, at dinner... before they'd addressed the elephant in the room. Before the accusations (and the bullets) started flying. Before any cutting words or cutting knives had exchanged hands...

Only Blaine's not angry now. And that calm Sebastian had seen behind the anger and the bitterness last night doesn't look like calm anymore. Blaine looks- 

"I read you were faster than this," Sebastian says, trying not to think about it. It's got to be another trick. Blaine hadn't been... been _devastated_ by the truth. Even if he actually hadn't known all along. He'd fired the first shot. He'd set their bed on fire - literally. He'd stabbed Sebastian three times to Sebastian's accidental twice, and he'd thrown a _bomb_ at him and-

Blaine seems to shudder at Sebastian's switched-off tone, but he lifts his chin and continues staring into Sebastian's gaze, nothing but sad, resigned (god, how does he fake looking that hurt, that _needy_ unless-) 

"Guess I'm just not as fast as you," he says quietly, almost like he's teasing, though his lips don't curl the way they always do when Blaine teases him...

Sebastian digs his gun into Blaine's side - hard. He wants to flinch when he sees Blaine battle back a flinch, but that just makes him angry.

It has to.

"Disarm," he orders, like it even makes sense. He's not the _police_. He doesn't take people in. He kills people. If Blaine has any hidden weapons, he doesn't need Blaine to give them up to kill him like they are. He just needs to squeeze the trigger...

"I don't have anything else on me," Blaine says, though he does move his hands - slowly, as Sebastian tenses. Doesn't shoot. Still can't quite wrap his head around the fact that he _should_ be shooting. Any minute now, Blaine will-

Blaine lowers his body on top of Sebastian's even as Bas scoffs at the suggestion that Blaine isn't armed to the teeth. His files said he's always got at least seven weapons on him. Sebastian always carries several. It was only here, with Blaine, that Bas had to force himself even to grab his two guns. 

"What the fuck are you doing? Don't-"

Blaine places both of his hands, palms flat, on Sebastian's chest and just keeps looking at him.

"I didn't bring anything else because I didn't want to use anything else," Blaine is saying, like Sebastian's gun isn't still painting bruises over his kidney. "I had my guns because I always have my guns... I always feel like I need- _felt_... I always felt like I needed to protect myself from... anyone. Everyone. Until I met..."

He's talking like he can't help himself. Like he's got to get this out before whatever happens next, like _that's_ all that matters to him now.

"Stop."

The ceiling is spinning over Sebastian again - and not because of that fucking grenade this time. He can't hope that-

"I guess it makes a kind of sense, right?" Blaine says, still quiet. His lips curl this time, although they tremble - just a little - too. "I mean, I thought you had _no_ idea what really goes on in the world... Running around like you can just- Just go wherever you want... Do whatever- Like there aren't people like _me_ out there, just waiting to-"

"Fucking _stop_ -"

Finally, there's a spark in Blaine's eyes - but it's not of the meanness, the anger or the intent that Sebastian was (dreading) anticipating. 

"I don't even fucking care if it was just- just another mark for you," Blaine lies. He _lies_ \- Bas can see it. Blaine and his big romantic gestures... 

"Don't-"

Blaine ignores his words. Closes his eyes and presses his lips to Sebastian's. Sebastian lets him. He's shaking so hard now they can both hear it.

He opens his eyes again just before Blaine does.

It's like he's forgotten everything for the second that they kissed, the feeling brand new with no secrets between them. Sebastian actually startles when Blaine says, "If you want to kill me, then kill me. Because I can't kill you . I don't want to keep lying, to you and myself, that I could _want_ to. Sebastian... I've never loved anyone the way I love you. You can laugh at that if you want. I'm fucking glad I love you. Or the you that you- that you pretended to-"

He's choking up, and for once Sebastian tells the hard-earned voice at the back of his head that says this is still some sort of sick play Blaine is making to go to hell.

The Blaine who shot and stabbed at Bas in fear and anger, that threw that bomb, that taunted Bas about Sam- That wasn't Sebastian's husband. But the man bravely staring Bas in the face and offering up his heart on a goddamned platter- This is his Blaine, kevlar vest and polished spook skills and all. When Bas could easily kill him, whether or not he says a thing, and that's all Sebastian really needs.

Sebastian clicks his safety back on, and with the click, Blaine stiffens... his eyes flutter shut. Sebastian can only imagine they fly open in the second that he realizes that click was no gunshot and what it means, because Sebastian has buried his face beneath the sharp angle of Blaine's unshaven jaw. He lets the gun drop. Lets Blaine win if that's all Blaine was aiming for. As far as Sebastian sees it, if Blaine's still faking it at this point, he _deserves_ his kill.

Blaine gasps. And then his body comes alive - not to attack Sebastian but to hold him. To touch him - his face, to fist in his hair.

"Sebastian..."

" _That_ , they never wrote in your file, Killer," Sebastian says, shooting for humor - even with his voice still wavering and his hands loose, afraid to clutch too tightly at Blaine's sides. "That you have a hell of a way with words."

Blaine moves to see his face and Sebastian lets him. There's no less desperation in Blaine's face now that Sebastian's gun is off of him than there was with it targeted at his body at close range. But there is a joy that is almost humbling when Sebastian sees it in Blaine's wide smile and sparkling eyes.

"I don't need words like those for the job," Blaine says, looking at Sebastian's face like he thought he'd never get the chance again. Which- valid. "Just you."

Later, it'll strike Sebastian as cheesy enough to tease Blaine over for months to come. 

But in the moment, It's the only thing Sebastian wants to hear. He flips Blaine over, crashes his mouth down on Blaine's, and together they wreck another space in their war-torn home...

This time the way Sebastian _likes_ wrecking things with Blain.

**Author's Note:**

> ....and, presumably, they went on to destroy whatever forces attempted to pit them against one another in the first place :p They each admitted they only claimed to have been with other people in the heat of battle to make the other jealous. And they went back to Bali to celebrate their vow renewal before purchasing replacements for all of the furniture and decore they ruined back home. (Plus there was an embezzling accounts manager and a former mob hitter on the lam - one for each of them.)


End file.
